Of Darkness, Magicians, and Madness
by Auburn Red
Summary: Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell Two monlogues about Norrell and Strange thinking about each other, and the prices they had to pay for their magic.
1. Chapter One: Gilbert Norrell

Of Darkness, Magicians, and Madness

By Auburn Red

Disclaimer: I do not own Jonathan Strange, Mr. Norrell, or any of the characters or situations from this book. They are created by the incomparable Susanna Clarke.

As far as I know this is the first _Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell_ fanfic (why is that:D) This is just a couple of monologues with Strange and Norrell thinking about their lives and their punishment and relationship with each other. This is NOT a slash fic (though you may interpret it as such if you want :D) This contains Spoilers for the ending of the book

Chapter One: Gilbert Norrell

He stirs in his sleep, the young fool! We are together in this darkened prison, cut off from the outside world and only known to each other. Because of him, because of his deranged desire to meet with the Raven King, because of his obssession with rescuing his wife, because of what he had read and what I had taught him we are here together!

I do not mind really so much. I live off of solitude. My largest regret is that I cannot do my part to the aid the English government and lead the Glorious Revival of English Magic, they way I planned. I could have continued revealing my views of magic to the world but I can't.

Strange's shudders in his sleep. His red hair is tousled and his face pale. His teeth are chattering and he is mumbling in his sleep. His speech was so loud that I came from my room to be near him. I am furious with what he led us to. I grab a pillow hoping to suffocate his breath, but put it down by his side. I want to strike him with my magic or my fists, so I can end his life and maybe this prison! I clench my hands into a fist, but then release it. I don't know why I do not show my anger at him.

Yes I do. Because of Strange. For one who has never felt close to most people his whole life, except maybe Childermass and a few others in my younger years, I am concerned for another human being. I haven't cared for one since- no never mind. Sometimes Strange is lucid and we bicker back and forth like we used to. He puts up with my eccentricities and I live through his histrionics. We banter and aid each other through our studies. Those are the good days.

On bad days, it is much worse. Sometimes he flies into mania and hysteria. He flies into rages, pours through books writing on whatever he can find, paper, walls, chairs, tabletops. He screams

and fights with visions that only he can see and hear. He mumbles incoherently about things that only he understands (and then I don't think he does). Such as the other day when he interrrupted my reading time to talk about snuff. Other days he is still, lying on the ground in a fetal position not moving. Those days I have to drag him out of his bed. He claims to be free of the Raven King's influence, but his mind is still ill. Like many magicians before him, he has fallen.

The other reason, I am not angrier than I should be is myself. Strange only did what I would have done if I were his age, what I had once tried to do. I look at him and am in some ways remind of myself though I was a lot more introverted and intelligent. I had thrown away my whole life in pursuit of my studies, trying all of the strongest magics, trying to be as daring as I could. If there was a book that would have said: KEEP OUT! I would have no doubt opened it. I would vie with rivals who were just as devoted as I was, but had given over to the darkness that we are in. I know Strange sees me as someone who is old and tedious with no passion who never knew how to love. Well he is wrong, I once had passion and I did once know how to love.

Elizabeth Hadden. I did not go as far as Strange did and married her the way he did his Arabella, though we were affianced. I don't know whether I would have married her in the end, but I did love her of course I was young, foolish, and twnety-six. I still remember her chestnut hair tied up in those curls and her white gowns, she loved to wear white. She was very intelligent and about as bookish as I was though she liked more company than I did. Elizabeth was a pleasent quiet woman who was devoted to me, but worried about my use of magic. She warned me, but I would never hear of it. Magic was my obssession.

Like Strange, I was obssessed with unearthing the deepest magics including yes, finding the Raven King.Ten years I spent on that obssession and when I think about what it cost me. Elizabeth was afraid for me and I think afraid of me. I remember our last night together. She knocked on my study door as I poured over my books and asked me to leave this place and go with her to visit some friend of hers, whose name I can no longer recall, to get away. I wouldn't leave. She tried to push me away, but I held firm. She begged but I screamed at her taking a sadistic delight at her tears. She nearly walked out the door and I shoved her inside knocking her to the ground. I told her to behold my awesome power and summoned a few words.

Suddenly the room went dark. All the candles blew out and everything was still. She begged me to come with her, but I refused. I even told her that I wished I would never see her again. The window then burst open and I heard the cry and saw the sillhouette of a raven. By the time, I found a lantern to light one candle, my beloved Elizabeth lay on the floor her throat slit open. That's when I vowed to have no more to do with the Raven King. I then studied and tried to control the use of magic, so no one could make the same mistakes that I did. Obviously, those mistakes will be made no matter what I do.

Strange stirs in his sleep, his mumbles growing louder. I place my hand on top of his hair until he falls back into his somewhat peaceful slumber. I feel like I hate him, but I also feel like I should care for him. Perhaps I could do for him what I could do for no other soul and bring him back. Maybe that Fairy Gentleman was right after all.

He really is my dearest friend.


	2. Chapter Two: Jonathan Strange

Chapter Two: Jonathan Strange

When I used to wake up, I would look around wondering where I was. I would be on the French battlefield or in my villa in Italy, and be unsure for a few minutes what I would find when I opened my eyes and looked out the window, sometimes delighting on the mystery The trouble with this place is I know exactly where I am. The view from the outdoors never changes, it is always the same darkness that surrounds us. Everywhere the despair hangs all over this house as we try to find a way to conquer our imprisonment and find our way out of this mess that I put us in.

I suppose this is the perfect situation for Mr. Norrell. The old crumudgeon lives off of solitude and his library. He has never had any friends, well except for Childermass and those two insufferable imbeciles Drawlight and Lascelles. I swear he would marry that library if given the chance. But not me.

There is a part of me that is climbing the walls longing for the parties, the social gatherings that I used to attend and the friends that I once had. I lay in bed in despair and anger at myself for letting it go so far. On those days Norrell pulls me out of bed and tells me to stop being so maudlin.

On other days, I can think of nothing but magic. I spend my days going over spells and listening hearing the voices of the wind and water, and the far off music from the land of Faerie. It isn't as clear as it was, but I can still hear it. I climb out of bed and look around the room. It is silent and I am alone, but Norrell has been in here, I know it. Perhaps he heard one of the Fairies calling me as I did. He sat over my bed, but is now gone. He is so good to me.

Norrell. Sometimes I am irritated at him and other times I have to thank him. We still fight as often as ever and he stills goes into his tedious lectures that half put me to sleep and half drive me mad. But other times, well without sounding trite about it, he is like a father to me. Well better than my birth father, anyway. He does not fuss over me, in the maudlin way a mother would, but instead just stands next to me and silently touches my shoulder or my forehead and whispers small words of comfort. I would never let him know this, but I do not know what I would do if he were not here with me. I probably wouldn't be able to survive this solitude. I would like to throttle him sometimes but somehow he makes this place almost bearable.

I walk around the room and look out the window. I see the view that I am accustomed, the darkness with no fields, no city streets, and no surroundings. I sigh thinking of Arabella, my darling wife. I picture her beautiful hair and her lovely gowns (even the awful black one she wore after she had been possessed by Faerie) and her melodic voice. I don't remember the words she said to me, just the way her voice sounded when she spoke. That is enough for now. I remember my last words to her, _Do not wear black... Do not be a widow... Be happy... That is how I wish to think of you_. I have lost count of the time I have been here. It could be a few months, could have been a year, could have been ten or even a hundred. Arabella may have remarried, may have even had children. I hoped she would. I wouldn't want her to despair.

The darkness moves to form a shape. The shape of a large eye bores into me. It looks through me into my mind and soul opening every secret! It seems to call to me! I want to duck down to avoid it's awful gaze! I want to cast a spell to make it disappear but the words die in my throat! But more than that, I want to be filled with his power. I want to fall into this dreaded eye and become one with it. I am torn between my new revulsion of the Raven King and my old desire to behold him. Before I would have given anything for that eye to look upon me, now I wish it would just let me be!

I hear the ancient voice calling to me, "Jonathan. Jonathan" and hear the sad violin music. I cannot bear it, it moves me so and my eyes fill. I step onto the balcony longing to fall into the darkness and just fall forever. My right foot dangles over into nothingness and I stand onto the balcony's edge my arms outstretched. The voice promises a life free of pain. Just jump, it seems to say. Come to us, and your suffering will end.

I almost lose my balance when I feel an arm grab me from behind and pull me off the balcony. I look into Norrell's gray eyes, his white hair askew from the exertion. "Don't be foolish, Strange," he said curtly gripping me tighter so I do not let go. "Do not fall into the darkness." I hear his voice holding a touch of concern, then the old gruffness returns. "Where would I find your body to bury you?"

I sit next to Norrell sighing and breathing slowly. I no longer wish to jump. Now I am just exhausted. My mind and body are drained of energy. Norrell stands up and helps me to rise. "Come now," he said returning to business. "Let's go into the study. I have some books we must look through."

I meekly follow Norrell. I have nothing now except my friendship with him. For now that's enough to get me through this prison.

For now anyway.


End file.
